


A Letter From You to Me

by larkofchaos



Category: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Give Grant a hug. Please., Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24739699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larkofchaos/pseuds/larkofchaos
Summary: Grant Wilson has felt his mental health steadily decline over the past weeks in the forgotten realm, going so far as to think of how everyone would react if he died tomorrow. He never suggested such things Beyonce a brief thought.But, once he fell asleep and found himself in some sort of spell where his older self spoke to him, he supposed he could keep going a little longer.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	A Letter From You to Me

Grant's dreams had never been pleasant. Ever since his bout with the chimera it had held nothing but trauma and tears, especially in recent days. He often found himself lying awake just to avoid confronting his demons. The horrid dreams were only getting worse after his rejection from Yeet Bigly, that beautiful young man. Grant wondered if he’d ever find another boy he loved as much as that Yeet Bigly. With his side swept hair and amazing skateboards tricks. To thirteen year old Grant Wilson, Yeet Bigly was his soulmate. 

Tonight was another one of his worst nights, his tears soaking the pillow under his head as he tried to keep his sobs silent so as to not alert his father, or the notoriously light sleeper, Paeden. Grant felt the familiar pull of the melatonin dragging his eyes closed. Another night where he couldn’t get to sleep without crying himself up to it. He knew he should talk to Dad about this, knew this was nowhere near healthy. But, how could he show his father so much weakness when Dad was so strong and brave? Dad had probably gone through more than he had and he didn’t cry himself to sleep. Dad risked it all to save him, and Grant still didn’t feel happy. How could he feel happy when his whole life was falling apart at the seams? He didn’t have his mom, didn’t have his home. He just wanted this whole god awful adventure to end. 

The world went dark as he finally drifted into slumber, feeling his body recuperate itself after such a long and hard day. It was almost soothing, if he hadn’t found himself in a dark room. It seemed like a similar room to that of which hid dads described the Omega Dads pulling them into. 

The room was dark, black on all sides, except for a teenager across the room from him. He looked about seventeen, hair shaved on the sides but fluffy and dyed on top. He wore a baggy zip-up hoodie with the sleeves pulled up to his elbows, and Grant could see a couple pride bracelets on his wrists. He wondered who this kid was, what he was doing in his dream. That was, until he turned around. And Grant was looking at himself. An older version of himself. 

“Oh, awesome! The spell worked! Come over here, Me. I wanna talk to you!” The older Grant smiled, waving the pre-teen over next to him. Grant Wilson had learned not to question many things at this point in life, everything was so unpredictable in the forgotten realms that he never really got spooked by anything anymore. He listened to the mysterious older Grant, sitting next to him. He could see a few faint scars on his wrists, just peeking above the multitude of kandi bracelets and rubber bracelets. 

“Who are you?” Grant asked, pulling his knees closer to his chest, staring out at the sea of nothingness this realm held. It felt safe here. A feeling Grant didn’t experience often anymore. 

“Well, I’m you. But, older. I’m like- future you, Shoots.” He smirked, laying down like someone would if they were laying in the grass watching stars. “It’s a spell I found, wanted to try it out. Seems it worked, huh?” This older Grant looked at him, and the thirteen year old could see a sparkle in his eye, a happiness that he had long given up on trying to achieve. 

“Yeah, I guess. Why’d you drag me here? You’re not like- Willy in disguise or something, are you?” That made the teenager laugh. 

“God, no! Hey, tell me, what’s going on in your life right now? Has Dad tell you everything that’s going on with him and Mom or did you just find out Yeet’s straight?” He asked, propping himself up on his elbows. 

“Neither. I’m fine.” 

“That’s a load of bullshit. I’m you, Grant. I can tell you’re really hating real life right now. I also know you’re really confused about like… Everything. Anyways, I’m gonna assume you just ran away from your first date cause your boy turned out to not like boys. Right?” It sucked that he was having to sit with himself. He couldn’t hide behind his impeccable lying skills (or maybe it’s just his dads shitty perception skills). Grant couldn’t just tell this guy to fuck off and to talk about it later. 

“Yeah. I did. What’s it to you?” He grumbled, hiding his face away behind the cloak of his knees. Grant’s eyes snapped shut when he felt a comforting hand in his hair. 

“Then, if that’s the case I also know Ron eavesdropped on the whole thing and now you’re gonna have to deal with that conversation on top of actually admitting to everyone you’re gay, huh, Baby Grant?” He had a sound of amusement to his voice. Grant hated how this guy knew exactly where he was in his life, exactly where his mental state was. He didn’t want to grace this asshole with a response, couldn’t let him know he was right. 

The boy stayed silent, eyes hidden behind his forearm so this older him couldn’t tell what he was feeling. He felt like the bottom of the earth, so low that even he himself pitied him. He was spiralling, he knew he was. Hell, Grant had been spiralling for days and days at this point. Going down and down into a hole he wasn’t sure he’d be able to pull himself out of. The knowledge that he may never see his mom again tormented him. He wanted his mom, his home, hell he even missed cleaning his damn room at this point. He hated it here. He wanted to leave; wanted it all to end. 

Arms engulfed him, dragging him out of his fetal position and pushing his head against the older man's shoulder. Older Grant’s arms were tight around him, cradling with nothing but understanding for how he felt. If anyone knew how he felt right now, it was himself, right? 

“It gets better, Shoots. I know you think that it's all gonna go to hell, and you’re not gonna get home. And, that kind of thinking just, is. Not. Good.” He pulled back just enough to poke the younger on the forehead with each of the last three words he said to emphasize the point of his statement. “You get out of your head, Grant. You’re one tough ass man. And, in the next few days, Dad’s gonna sit down and talk to you about something big, and trust me, it’s gonna feel like your whole life is being ripped to shreds, even more than it already does. But, what he’s gonna tell you is for the best, Grant. Know that. From that, things get better. I promise. But, you gotta promise me you’ll keep going.” The emotion in his voice and in his eyes was so reassuring to his younger self. 

Grant felt the tears well up. He didn’t realize how bad he just needed to hear ‘it’s gonna be okay’ until that very moment. The grasp of his older self tightened again, holding him close and tight. “It’s okay to cry, Grant.” And just like that, the dam broke. a gut wrenching sob leaving him as he let himself grip onto this possible complete fictional form of himself. This idealized out and proud teenage Grant that was more likely conjured by his brain than anything else. He let himself be held while he cried, let all this pent up rage and sadness burst out of him in a tidal wave of shameless crying. 

“By your birthday, you’ll be back home. Walking into your old home and sleeping in your own bed again. Dad gets us in therapy not long after, gets us on medication to help. And it really does help.” Grant heard the comforting smile in his voice, felt the guy running fingers through his hair to help calm him back down and keep him satiated while he cried. “I just need you to stay strong, and keep moving forward. For Dad, for Mom, for Terry, for whoever the fuck you need it to be for right now.” Grant nodded, pressing closer to the older boy and finally calming down from his crying. 

“Y-yeah, for Dad…” He mumbled. Laying his head against the crook in his neck. “Even though he replaced us with Paeden?” 

“He never replaced us. Paeden needed a home, so he got to stick around. He comes back with us to the real world too. Dad adopted him. It’s… A lot less lonely in the house with him around, if I’m being honest.” The dream faded out, leaving Grant staring at the roof of the van in a rising sun. The light peeking through the corners in the window. 

__________________________________

As the spell ended, Darryl looked up to see Henry watching him with sympathy in his features. He looked around the circle and cast items he had set up so his best friend could help him make one last effort at saving his boy. He clutched the ratty old blue hoodie tighter. It was the last thing he had left of his family. 

“Did the spell work, Dee?” He asked, reaching forward to lay a hand on Darryl’s knee. Henry could only imagine how hard the last few minutes had been for Darryl. If the spell worked or didn’t, it’s just as much a punch to the gut. 

“We’ll find out in a few minutes, now, won’t we, Oak?” His voice sounded shaky, the fear of his last chance failing obvious in his voice. Over the last six months Darryl had slaved over textbooks and research, trying to figure out some way to bring back his son, to just have so much as one more day with Grant. After Carol left, Grant was all he had. Because of Darryl’s own stupid actions, he didn’t have him anymore. 

The sports dad stared at the wrist tattoo he had gotten not long after Grant’s death, a semicolon on his wrist with Grant’s birthday underneath it. Just looking at it made Darryl feel like crying. The father let himself fall forward, head leaning on Henry’s shoulder. 

“I miss him, Henry. If- if I had been better maybe he’d-” Henry cut him off, shoving him back and staring intently into his eyes. 

“Don’t you start talking like that, Darryl. Sometimes, things happen to our kids and, as fathers, all we can do is try to be there for them. But, no one can predict the future. We all knew Grant struggled with his mental health, but no one could’ve known it’d be that bad. What he did is not your fault. We are all products of the things that we-” A knock sounded at the door. Darryl assumed it was the now twelve year old Paeden, he always came in to talk to Darryl about random things. 

“Not now Paeden, I’m-” The door cracked open, and there stood Grant. Not an illusion, not a dream. 

“Sorry, Dad. I just wanted to let you know I’m going out with the gang, I’m taking Paeden with me too, we’ll be back before curfew.” Grant said. His son. His beautiful, strong, courageous son. Darryl climbed to his feet, walking over to the door and pulling Grant into him, holding him as close as he ever could. The difference in the way Grant even held himself now then he did in the last days before the whole reason he had to cast that spell. “Uh.. Dad? Are you okay?” His boy asked, sounding concerned. He hugged back anyway, though. The Grant Darryl had lost would’ve never returned his hug, which meant his spell didn’t just work, it let Grant grow too. It fixed what Darryl had failed to do before. Their bond. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good Grant. I just… I love you, son.” 

“I love you too, Dad. But, I gotta get going. Terry’s driving, and you know he’s not the most patient guy ever.” He chuckled, pulling away from his father. “See ya tonight.” He offered, running back down the stairs and yelling for Paeden. 

Henry put a hand on Darryl’s shoulder, leaning on him for a bit of comfort. 

“You did it, Wilson. You saved him.” 


End file.
